Stained with Shadows
by oceankat8
Summary: Christine ran away with Raoul and lived happily after, well, she tried. Thoughts of the phantom still haunt her, but what will she do when he leaves completely? With the help of an elderly baker, an open minded director, and her own desperate need to find him, Christine will search all of France for the Phantom of her dreams...
1. Chapter 1

Boring, boring, and boring. Christine was constantly repeating this in her head as she sat down to dinner with Raoul and his guests. She knew as a proper lady this would probably be the most entertaining part of her life; sharing gossip, eating and cooking food, and dressing fancy for guests. But once you get used to a life of constant work, practice and hectic schedules, a nice quiet life will always be _boring_.

It had only been a few weeks since Raoul convinced her that continuing a career as a thespian would be meaningless, with him being all proper his fiancée can't be some harlot that struts about a stage in skimpy costumes. Now can she?

But still… the thrill of performance, the joy of an encore, hearing voices cheer you, and that spine tingling feeling you get whenever you know _he's_ watching. Christine snapped her eyes open with a gasp. Where did that thought come from? _He_ had terrified her, tried to kill Raoul, went mad and still… still…

"Christine? Are you alright my love? You seem distracted." Raoul looked at her as he reached for her. Christine looked at him and those kind, gentle eyes as she grasped his hand. Raul had always been her grip on the real world. Every time _he_ occupied her thoughts, Raoul brought her back to reality.

Christine looked around at the table; all the guests quietly eating and sharing bits of "he said she said" across the table. Only Raoul had taken notice in her. Not that Christine truly minded she never went for fame and glory so that people would notice her; she did it because _he_ commanded that she do so. Raoul though, came in like a gust of fresh air. He let her do anything and everything she ever wanted, well almost anything. Acting was still out, but after what he went through? She could never blame him. She still remembered the rope around his neck, the desperate pleading, the music…

Christine gripped his hand tighter before standing up and gathering everyone's attention. "Would anyone fancy a bit of a game?" anything to get her mind elsewhere and out of the dark thoughts and questions that plagued it.

"How about a game of yes and no?" Raoul came to her side again. She heard a murmur of agreement pass through the few guests they invited. Five of them, two couples and a single bachelor.

One stood and asked "shall we retire to the living room then?" and Raoul led the way. When everyone was situated the bachelor started.

"I'm thinking of a person…"

"female?"

"no"

"single?"

"not at all"

"married?"

"not yet"

"handsome?"

"I wouldn't know"

"rich?"

"well off enough"

"young?"

"our age"

"in this room?"

"but of course!"

"so it's me is it?" Raoul said as they all burst out laughing.

"no one else! Who's next?" the bachelor said as he settled on the coach.

"I'm thinking of a legend…" started the younger of the wives

"A legend?"

"that's what I said"

"scary?"

"terrifying"

"famous?"

"here in France? Quite so"

"speaking from personal experience?"

"none of my own?"

"in the forest?"

"no"

"in a castle?"

"closer"

"some haunted manor?"

"even closer"

"I know what it is!"

"do you?"

"not in a manor? … it could be an opera…oh! Why that's absolutely horrid! Why would you bring that up?" asked the other wife. "Christine still has nightmares about that! Oh she's sorry Christine; she gets a bit carried away sometimes…"

But Christine wasn't listening. She was trapped in her memories. Memories of shadows lurking in the night, a haunting presence that demanded her affection. A controlling, powerful voice that mesmerized her and pulled her from reality. The chill that crawled up her back when she knew he was watching. Dark memories flooded through her as the frail veil she kept them hidden under was breeched.

Raoul rushed to his fiancée as shadows seemed to cloud her eyes. It seemed she would never escape his influence, even after his death. Christine seemed to slowly come back to her senses as Raoul talked to her, her eyes clearing and her mind coming back. It seemed Raoul was the only thing that could stitch that frail veil back together. Christine smiled and stood, looking around she said "I think I shall retire now, I apologize, so please, continue without me" and left the room, her fiancée close behind.

Meanwhile the shadows hid a secretive smile that melted away into the night.

When she got upstairs, Christine locked herself in her room. Raoul begged her to let him in, but her mind needed a break and he would want to talk about what happened.

at first she tried singing to calm herself, but the songs she sang took on sinister melodies, and she'd realize they were all his. She laid on her bed, but the white silk and lace of her curtains reminded her of the dress he made for her. She daren't light a candle for fear it would spark some ghostly ritual and summon him before her. Everything reminded her of him, every thought led to him, every action, movement, and song held his presence. She could still feel his eyes on her, as if he was watching her every move. How could she have thought she escaped?

She thought he had been left behind, buried in the opera house, but he was still here, inside her mind. Was this his revenge? Was she to follow him into madness? Follow him past all logical thought, to a realm created completely from music and emotion? From which she has never stopped hiding?

Christine's heart tore at the thought of spending her life hiding. Why am I hiding from someone whom is dead? Can't I just… just…

Raoul had tried to comfort Christine, but she pushed him away and there was nothing he could do. He knew it would take time for those kinds of wounds to heal, and he hoped his influence was a positive one. He could tell she was scared, but she wasn't alone. She never would be.

The viscount sighed as he gave up and went back to the living room with the intentions of calming the guests, and getting a shot of something strong into his system. He would send a maid to check on her later, hopefully she'll have calmed down by then.

Christine had a distant look in her eyes as she opened the large window that led to the small balcony. The wind tossed her hair as she stepped into the cold night air. Night was his domain. Thoughts continued to swim through her mind. Jumbled confused, too many to properly concentrate on any of them. The balcony was small, hardly bigger than a simple ledge, but she didn't need room right now. She made her way to the rail and took a step foreword. But before she could even shift her weight, strong, warm arms enveloped her. Pulling her back and not letting go. She felt his breath tickle her ear and his voice, smooth, seductive, and threatening:

"Did you honestly believe you could escape me that easily? The chains that bind us will never be broken by something as simple as death."

His arms were warm and controlling. He wouldn't let go… at first she tried to fight, from instinct if nothing else. But every struggle brought her deeper into his embrace until she was almost melting into his warmth…

She had been so devastated when he 'died'. She blamed herself and thought it was his ghost, out for revenge that plagued her dreams. But, was it really only his memories that did this to her? Were they so powerful?

He began to pull her back inside, the candles that had remained unlit until his arrival, sparked with his presence and caused the once familiar room to dance with shadows and eerie light.

She quit struggling completely as her mind went blank. The phantom was softly whispering a song in her ear. The lyrics spoke of her struggles and how useless they were. He sang of her confusion melting in his presence and how he controlled her so completely that her thoughts were not her own.

She knew it was true as the song washed through her mind, her weak grip on reality was slipping away, her mind so gone she would follow him anywhere and everywhere. Just like that night…

The phantom slowly released his hold on her as he turned her around to face him. There was a blank mesmerized look on her face as his singing grew confident and triumphant.

She was still his, she would always be his.

Christine awoke to a bright morning sun with birds singing sweetly in the trees. She wanted to believe it had all been a dream, but the object in front of her spoke a painful truth. She would never escape him. Not in her life and not through death. She would always be his.

She gently picked up the rose with it's delicate black lace and sinister meaning. She held it close to her chest as she let tears of self pity stain her cheeks. She knew she couldn't escape so why did she bother trying? For freedom? No, she was no more free as a viscount's fiancée than she was as _his_ prima donna. If anything she did it simply to show herself she _could_ fight back, she_ could_ struggle. Even if it bore no fruit, just the thought that she could fight against him had held hope. But now, after tonight, the way she couldn't even think for herself in his presence reminded her that with him, there was no fighting back. His voice mesmerized her, his touch electrified her, and the way he could fill any room instantly, or disappear from sight in seconds thrilled her. She could never understand why, but she simply lost the ability to think when he was around. As if his music was a gateway to pure emotion, but Christine knew emotion could lead to one's downfall. It had led to his, yet in the end, he never fell did he?

_Stop! _Christine thought to herself as she wiped her eyes and stood from the bed. _You, even now are letting him control your mind. You mustn't give in to him, lest you fall prey to his lust for flesh. _She spoke this in her mind over and over, hoping to persuade herself that emotions for him were wrong, especially emotions like that. Weren't they?

Weren't raw emotions the down fall of man? Did they not pave the road to hell? No… that was good intentions. He certainly cared not for those… he murdered two men… though, she never would have danced with him if he did not join the opera… and that bastard he had hanged in the middle of the ballet was the most horrid, perverted…. Why was she defending him? It didn't matter why he killed, he had killed! In the most shocking, frightful, unexpected, and horrid way imaginable! She kept getting distracted in her thoughts, her mind twisted and painful. If he was there, he would be the only thing on her mind and her heart would beat with his, no second thoughts, or suppressed emotion, just him. Then there would be no painful confusion or heartbreaking emotion. But just letting herself fall, to completely succumb to him, wasn't that wrong as well? Wasn't she supposed to fall in love with the gentle and kind prince? Wasn't that what had happened? _Just stop!_

She cleared her mind as she stood and started her daily vocal warm ups. _Remember, don't wear yourself out on the warm ups, and make sure you move around, that way your voice will be more flexible, and your body will allow more movement on stage without straining it…and remember to try a few tongue twisters to help articulation. Breathe with your diaphragm, not your lungs. Just like in dancing, singing allows you to show meaning and emotion beyond your words…_

Raoul was going to check on Christine, she hadn't allowed him in last night and he wanted to make sure she was okay. He could hear her doing her vocal warm-ups from the other side of the door, and he frowned. Why does she keep practicing that? Had he not told her she wouldn't return to being an opera singer? She seemed to lose herself when she sang, and then she wasn't his, she was the phantoms. He wasn't going to let her fall victim to that madman just because she wanted an active life with adoring crowds and grand costumes? No, he wasn't going to lose her to him, yet every time she sang it was as if he had already lost.

Then he heard it. She was singing the same song as the night the phantom had kidnapped her. _Angel of music speak I listen…_

He rushed forwards and threw open her door, fully expecting him to be there, in the mirror, enchanting her. But the only one there was Christine. She looked at him in shock, as if he was a madman. Ha! Him? The madman? He strode into her room, straight to the mirror. He first felt if it was solid, then he looked behind it for any kind of secret passage way. Then he checked the window and balcony for any sign of his presence, next the dresser, her vanity, and her bed. He lifted the pillows and searched behind the head board, he even checked under it for any sign of that accursed man, but alas, there was none. Finally he turned to Christine herself and that was when he saw it. A single red rose tied with black lace. She held it delicately in her hands as if it were a fragile gift from god.

Christine watched in horror as Raoul tore through her room as if possessed. He must have been looking for something…but what? And what caused him to snap like that? Then he seemed to have given up, and Christine allowed herself to breathe again. The Raoul she knew would never hurt her, so why had she been scared? _Because_, she thought to herself, _that wasn't the Raoul you know._ She shook her head for what was probably the thousandth time that morning to clear her thoughts and looked at Raoul. But he was looking right at her, with an expression she had never seen before. No, not at _her_, but at what she was holding, the _**Rose**_.

"Wait! Raoul, I can explain!" Christine hid the rose behind her back as she begged with Raoul to listen to her. But he shook his head and stood, walking closer to her and eventually grabbing her by her upper arms and shaking her in anger. Not enough to hurt her, but enough that she could feel tears spring into her eyes and threaten to fall.

"explain?" he hissed "explain to me why I could hear you sing to him, beg him to guide you and take you away? How you could still call him your angel of music?!" his eyes smoldered with an anger she had never seen before, but more than that, his questions had caught her off guard.

"I was singing to him?..." she looked at Raoul, terrified of the influence her once divine angel had over her, and the price it had cost her to fall under his spell. She looked up at Raoul, he was changed. She knew it was the encounter with the phantom that had changed him; it had changed her as well. Maybe… maybe they weren't as meant for each other as she had thought so long ago on the roof, when they had first kissed. It was her first kiss, that is true, yet it was not the most memorable one…

Christine sighed as she came out of her thoughts. She moved to pull the rose out from behind her and Raoul gently released her. Regret written across his face. She knew that feeling well. There had been many things in this life that she regrets, especially that night, when she had left him behind for good, or what she thought had been for good. She could see him sitting there, heartbroken, abandoned, and she had shattered him further when she gave him back his ring. She looked at her left hand now. She was still holding the rose, but she was concentrated on the engagement ring on her finger. It was fine, fancy and elaborate. Everything a girl could ask for, it was even gold, with a diamond so large it could almost match Carlotta's ego. But she never really liked it. She preferred silver; it was softer, gentler and would complement the diamond rather than steal all the attention…

Christine was brought back to reality when Raoul gently lifted the rose from her hand. Examined it closer. "Is this from him?" he asked. She tried to explain it away but he cut her off. "Don't lie. I've seen him give these to you before. You held one on the roof that night. Remember?" Christine nodded her head solemnly as he continued, "Why would you have a fresh one now? Did he visit you last night? The night before? Was that why you were so distracted during dinner?" he continued on, not quite yelling, but still not gentle like the Raoul she knew as a child. Perhaps they had both been changed irrevocably. Because before, she would have blamed herself and thought herself the one whom had wronged, but she knew now that she did nothing wrong, and it was the phantom that had snuck into her room, and Raoul the one at fault for blaming her.

She felt her heart numb slightly knowing that they could never be how they once were. The phantom had made sure of that. Was that his plan? To tear them apart so that she would have no choice but to choose him? Even if it was… it was they whom were allowing him to succeed.

"He didn't visit me Raoul; I simply awoke to find it there this morning. I think he knew I was thinking about him, and left it here so that my mind would not be able to escape thoughts of him… else it be a warning for something…" she trailed off, making it sound as if she was in deep thought. She knew her acting skills had paid off when she was met with yet another apologetic expression.

Raoul turned his head away as he heard her answer. He knew she was probably speaking the truth; the phantom was mysterious as they came and none could understand him. Not even Christine. He exhaled and looked again at the hateful rose. Why was something so beautiful a symbol of such torment for him? Noticing the rose had been clipped of it's thorns he thought to himself, _maybe this rose's thorns are the torment it brings?_ He then crushed it in his hand and left Christine to her own thoughts as he gently closed the door behind him.

Christine saw him crush the rose so that the petals fell to the floor and the scent filled the room. She felt her heart mourn for the poor flower. It had been so beautiful, but was destroyed by another mans envy. Yet the beauty escaped in the familiar scent as it filled her room. She sat down again on her bed. This time only thoughts of the rose occupied her mind as she started to hum soft melodies, and memories of flowers, and applause filled her mind. She could remember the stage and the costumes. The applause and the way her dressing room had been filled with so many flowers, before he came to steal her away…

Erik watched in silence. He had returned to check on her, make sure she wasn't still suicidal. He couldn't let her escape that easily, now could he? He was never very far anyways, never far enough that he couldn't hear her. That way, should she be in trouble, he would be by her side in seconds. Just like last night. Yet, when he returned to the familiar shadows of her room he saw something quite unexpected.

The viscount, Raoul, had grabbed Christine, _his_ Christine, roughly by the arms. Shaking her and causing tears to form in the corner of her eyes. It took every ounce of self control he had to not reveal himself and finish what he started in his lair. But he knew if that damned man could confirm his presence it would only be harder to see Christine and his plans would be further impeded. Still, he smoldered with repressed rage in the shadows, until he heard Christine's gentle whisper… she was lying about him, instead of spilling her troubles to her lover and letting him hide her away from the phantom, she was lying. Knowing that she still kept such secrets from her beloved fiancée warmed his heart and an idea began to play around in his mind. _Perhaps_, he thought_, I am not needed in tearing them apart; they seem quite capable of doing it themselves. _

He formed a plan and smiled as he saw Raoul storm off and Christine gently glide to her bed. He heard her quietly hum the song he had taught her so long ago, to sing should she ever need him, and knew that his plan would work. He disappeared into the shadows and left Christine completely alone for the first time since she had come to his opera house. Sure there were moments when he wasn't there, but she was never truly alone. What was that saying? If you love someone let them go? And Erik intended to do just that.

Christine felt a sudden chill, the room seemed to suddenly lose all warmth, it felt cold and empty. Like when a winter wind sneaks in and blows out a warm hearth. She felt like ice had encased her lungs and it was painful to breathe. She could feel the music leave her… and the weight of the silence as it descended. She felt as if she suddenly carried the sky alone on her shoulders. It was a horrid feeling, she still remembered the time her father died and that she felt this same way. Empty and alone. Was it because of the fight with Raoul?

No, Raoul had gotten angry with her, but he hadn't left. She was missing someone else. Someone in the background. Someone watching over her from the shadows…

Christine felt her breath hitch in her throat as she realized what she was thinking. Her angel of music had left her. Her one guardian, the one she had cursed and sent away countless times, yet he stayed there, in the background and loved her even still; **_the phantom of the opera_**. It was the only explanation, so why was she sad? Should she not be dancing with joy? Singing her triumph? Instead she felt lonely, why did he leave? Where did he go? What where his plans? Why was she worried for him? How could she be so sure that he left? But she knew that he had. That was the only certainty. Instead of laughing and cheering her victory, calling Raoul back to gloat with him, she felt her music die and her light dim. WHY?!

Christine had been pacing her room non-stop. She hadn't eaten or slept since the morning she awoke to see that beautiful rose lying on the pillow before her. It had been three days since. Her thoughts were repetitive and ran in circles. In her three days of doing nothing but think she had come no closer to answering those questions. The only thing that had changed was that her certainty of his absence had grown. She couldn't understand why he had left. Him! The one that had fought for her against impossible odds and her own wishes. How could he give up on her like that? She could feel the strain on her heart; it would break wide open if this continued. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. She heard Raoul come to the door many times, and the servants tried to comfort her thinking it was the fight that had her so distressed. No one knew the real reason she seemed to go mad. She was pulling out her hair and pacing the floor non-stop.

The maids were able to get some food and drink into her system over the next couple days as they brought it to her on the fifth floor. It wasn't that she didn't have the energy or will to eat; she was simply too preoccupied in her thoughts to consider nourishing herself. Yet she still couldn't find any answers. And eventually a week passed without her once leaving her room.

Her thoughts continued to rampage her mind. Always "why?" or "how" and they continued to cycle through, non-stop. She knew her heart was at it's limits as she collapsed into the chair on her vanity. Her pacing stopped for the first time since she felt his presence disappear. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, she was a mess. Her hair was frizzled and sticking up from where she had been clutching it. Her nightgown was filthy and tarnished from her wearing it almost ten days in a row. And her face looked exhausted, funny, she didn't feel exhausted.

She closed her eyes as she dropped her head into her hands and for the first time, she began to cry. Truly cry, she didn't know why. She was torn and confused and heartbroken. How could one man leaving do this to her? Is this what he felt when she left him that night? When she handed back the ring and walked away? The tears ran hot down her cheeks as her thoughts began to clear. For once making way for raw emotion.

Raoul felt horrible for what he did and what happened between them. He had gone back and tried to apologize many times over the past week or so. But she refused to speak with him. He couldn't blame her. She wasn't the one at fault, yet he had yelled at her, spoke harshly and gripped her violently. She did nothing wrong, it was that monster. _He_ had changed her, had changed _him_ even. They would never be the same because that thing had corrupted them and polluted their love with his jealousy. That was why. _He_ was behind it. But he would never win. Evil never does.

Raoul turned around yet again to try and apologize to her. He walked up the main stairs to her room. Why did she insist on sleeping on the fifth floor when he slept on the second? Didn't she know how much distance she put between them that way?

He had just made it to her door when he heard mournful sobbing from the other side. It couldn't just be the fight. Was she truly that delicate? He gently opened her door, thankful that it was left unlocked by the previous maid, and made his way into her room. Unfortunately the rusty hinges gave him away. She looked up from her vanity, tears staining her cheeks her eyes puffy and red. Her lip quivered and she didn't seem capable of forming words. She ran to him, knocking over the chair she had previously occupied and plowing into him. Gripping his shirt she sobbed loudly into his chest. Raoul couldn't figure out why she was so heartbroken. Her sobs pained him as she hiccupped and tried to calm herself down enough to speak.

"He's gone! He left! He hasn't come back yet…" she wailed, as if grief-stricken.

Raoul was further thrown into confusion. If she meant whom he thought she did, why was she sad? Should it not be cause to celebrate instead? Was this what had kept her locked in her room for so long? She simply missed his presence? These were no tears of joy. That he could tell. Was she lonely now that the devil she called guardian had abandoned her? If so, he'd be here with her. Even though that phantom had finally let her go, she was crying. Raoul would have to convince her that they were blessed when the bastard finally left. He hid a smile as he pulled Christine closer to him and held her tighter.

Christine felt herself scream into Raoul's chest and her tears soak his shirt. She wanted him to hug her back, to possess her, give her a reason to live. She wanted warmth, strength and emotion from him, but as he tightened his grip she felt the emptiness inside her continue to grow.

She pushed him away. Her tears dry and her heart numb, she was as pale as a ghost and swayed gently on her feet. His presence had only been absent since the fight… what was that about again? Oh, yeah… _him_. It was always about him. She glided to the window, leaving her fiancée standing there behind her. She slowly opened the window as an icy wind blew through her thin nightgown. She stepped onto the tiny balcony, shivering in the cold, and made her way to the railing. Laying her bare hands on it, she felt the frigid metal bite into her skin. The moon was out casting shadows of the night. She looked at each one, as they blended into the darkness, hoping to see him there, hiding. Hoping to feel his presence in the night. But the pit in her heart screamed that he was nowhere to be found.

So he was gone…truly gone. But for how long and why? These questions still plagued her mind. Refusing to loosen their hold on her. She hadn't wanted him to be gone. She just…just what? She pushed him away, broke his heart, ran off with another man, and still expected him to fight for her? It was her fault he left. She wanted him gone, so he disapeared, and took part of her with him.

She leaned over the rail, thoughts coming back to her from ten nights ago. Of ending it simply. But could she really die when part of her was missing? And would it really end anything? No… he'd probably follow her still. He was a phantom after all. She might have jumped, just to see if he would catch her, but she could still feel Raoul behind her. Staring at her like she was crazy. And wasn't she? Didn't the absence of the one guiding light in her life do this to her. Ten days… ten days was all it took to destroy her completely.

Her Angel was gone, so how was she going to get him back?

* * *

End of chapter one. It's a good ten pages and I thought I'd leave it so you're curious and want to read more, but you can still stop here if you aren't. By the way, I hate Raoul and I'm doing everything I can to keep him in character instead of giving him an ACTUAL PERSONALITY. But I still have to make him the bad guy for the purpose of this fic. So expect more anger moments from him! I'm sorry, prince charming doesn't do it for me. And Christine's personality is a slight bit different because, like I said in the fic. They are changing. People do that. No explicit scenes because I don't see past marriage in this fan fiction. I apologize, but there will be passion and kissing, and more action later on. This chapter was all about Christine realizing that she wants Erik in her life and that it isn't any fun without him. Hell, she might eventually realize that she loves him. *wink* *wink*


	2. Chapter 2

The (not so) long awaited chapter two! WARNING there will be an OC in the following chapter. But don't let that discourage you, read on my friend.

* * *

Erik had decided to leave Christine, and wait for her to come to him. He knew his presence was a constant in her life, and hers in his, but he still wasn't sure how she'd be affected.

He was worried, but also knew that she could never be completely his until she chose to be. But still… ten days without her was like grinding his head against a saw mill. He wanted to find her, touch her, hear her voice again…but if he got to close she would know and all this would have been for naught. But still, what if she chose that other man? That _Raoul_ over him. He had status, wealth, not that Erik wasn't wealthy, a house, and a handsome face. That is something Erik will never have.

He looked at the broken mirror in front of him. He was wearing a different mask. He had lost his original one the night Christine left him. Somewhere in his cavern the cavern he was in now. He knew the first place she'd look for him was here. But still, this place held horrid memories for him. It was the same as the night he left, for he hadn't returned before today. The bed she laid on, the organ he created music with, the mirrors he broke when she had shattered his heart. But love never dies, and he would wait an eternity for her. Just not here.

He needed to leave, this place held no warmth for him when the music of the opera had been silenced. Before, it was alive, but now it was as cold and dark as the phantom himself. If Christine truly wanted him back, she would have to search further still for him, beyond this place. But would she continue if she knew he wasn't here? Would her search not end here, in this room?

No… if anything, Christine was stubborn. When her mind is truly made she will find a way. It was her confusion holding her back. And Erik intended to clear her mind. He left his lair how he left it that night, waiting for her. Christine would come here, that he knew, and that he prepared for. And with that, the Phantom of the opera disappeared yet again.

Christine sat down for breakfast with her fiancée for the first time in what was now eleven days. She had made her decision last night, and now sat at the table, silent, and contemplative. She kept her eyes downcast as if she was guilty of something. And wasn't she? Guilty of plotting against her own fiancée. What was the word? Right, treason. She was a traitor, guilty of high treason against the viscount. He had never done anything wrong to her, not really. Yet, he had never done anything overly extraordinary for her either. Not like her phantom. But still, the word stung at her as she stared into her plate of eggs.

She knew it was wrong, but she wasn't going to stop. No, not now. She was thinking of ways to get him back. How could she convince him to return? Could she sing to him? Ah, but first she had to find him. He was certainly not here anymore, the fact that she had nightmares for the first time she could remember had driven that into her like a stake.

She had dreamed of that last night in the opera. Of the phantom hanging Raoul with his rope, pulling on it to cut of his air. _Raise your hand to the level of your eyes…_but then, Raoul was laughing maniacally, as if mad. The ropes disappeared and he grabbed Christine roughly by the arms like that morning, eleven days ago. He pulled her to him and as the phantom tried to save her she saw red. She didn't know why, and the phantom had disappeared. She was left alone with Raoul, but this wasn't the Raoul she thought she loved. He was a maniac, content only when Christine cried out in pain. She awoke, screaming. And that was when Raoul, the real one, convinced her to come down for breakfast with him.

She pushed the nightmare to the back of her mind as she thought of places he might be. But the only place she could think of, was the old Opera house. But it was burned to the ground. Surely he would not stay at such a place. He may be considered a phantom, but he was still a man. No matter how beyond human he seemed.

She still thought back to that night though. When she chose Raoul and he had let her leave. Had he known this would happen? That she would regret her choice and want him back? Surely not. But, had she not chosen Raoul that night, she never would have known how wrong she was in choosing him. She would have thought the phantom took her away forcibly from a promising life. But now, now she realized just what a life with Raoul entailed.

She still had a choice to make though. Could she really choose the phantom over Raoul knowing what he had done? She took a tentative bite of her eggs as she answered her own question. _Yes_. She would, she had to. If not, her descent into madness would continue, and she'd eventually lose herself. It had only taken eleven days for her to reach this point. She could not last indefinitely.

She went back to thoughts of searching for him. But yet again, she could only think of one place he could be. And she decided to look for him there. He had to be there, there was really nowhere else he could be. It's not like he'd fit into society with that mask.

That decided it for her. She'd go to the opera house and look for him there. She finished the last bite of her eggs and excused herself from the table before grabbing her shawl and heading to the door.

"where are you headed so early this morning? It took all my trickery and cunning to simply get you down to breakfast." Raoul joked as he saw her leave.

"oh," Christine stuttered as her mind frantically tried to think of a plausible excuse. "I was thinking about how all that time moping in my room had made me miss the fresh air, and given me a craving for apple pie," she smiled falsely, "I think I'll head down to the bakery and ask John for some sweets to pull me out of this foul depression." She concluded, knowing her acting skills had paid off yet again when Raoul found no argument.

John was a kind man, whom owned a bakery half a mile away. Christine mentally decided to stop there before going on to where she was certain her phantom was hiding. Smiling sweetly, Christine turned around and shut the door before continuing her journey, leaving a confused Raoul mumbling in her absence,

"in that?..."

She quickly made her way to the Bakery, her mind distracted with thoughts of him. She tried humming softly, but it felt as if the music was fighting back, and the tune would not carry. Still, she fought on, determined to hum the hymn properly. She didn't notice she had arrived at her destination until she heard John calling out to her.

"bonjour, mi Amiga Christine!" he said, part French, part Spanish, his native tongue. "you here for bread, no?" he asked, leading her inside the building.

It was warm and familiar as the smell of fresh bread in the oven and pies out to cool greeted her. She smiled despite herself and sat down at the counter. She had visited many times since moving in with Raoul and John had become a close friend of hers. He had traveled the world before settling down in France, he said it was because the food here was truly _unique_. Those words exactly. He was an empathetic man, and always seemed to know her troubles, even before she spoke them out loud. Today was no different.

"You want sweet bread or apple pie? You need something sweet, to cheer you up, si?" she nodded and ordered a slice of apple pie as she situated herself on the chair. Despite the warmth of the bakery, it still felt cold and empty compared to before. _Had he been here too? All those times when she came to talk with John was he still watching over her?_

"I get you fresh slice, and table cloth so you no ruin expensive dress, si?" he walked away whistling to get her food.

Expensive? Christine looked down at her dress. It was indeed fancy and expensive. It was a beautiful silk gown, trimmed with white lace roses and delicately woven. She blushed as she noticed her sleeves showed her shoulders off, and the top cut dangerously low. She hadn't remembered putting something so fine on, had she done it unconsciously? Hoping he'd like it if she was able to find him? Probably. She blushed at the thought, her cheeks burning against normally pale skin.

Christine covered herself with the shawl as John returned, holding a delicious looking slice of pie. Her mouth watered at the sight of it, its smell tickling at her nose. She said a quick thank you as he set it before her and began to devour it. It was much easier to eat here, without Raoul staring her down as if she was plotting regicide in her free time.

"going to meet someone special, si?" John asked as he sat across from her, on the other side of the counter.

She nodded, wanting to get at least part of her problems out in the open. Maybe the weight of the world would feel lighter with someone to share it. "I am looking for a very close and dear friend," she started, not lying yet still hiding the truth, "he went missing a couple weeks ago, and I was going to search for him." She glanced at John only to see a knowing smile spread across his lips.

"ahhhh, judging from the constant glances behind you, I take it this a secret from fiancée? He no approve, si?" John chuckled as she visibly jumped in her skin. " no worry Bonita, I keep secret for you. Es what friends for, no?" he said cleaning her place and heading back to the kitchen. He came back shortly with a mug of warm cider.

"on the house, now tell me what happened to your mysterious friend with mask." she stared at him wide eyed. As if him knowing about the mask was impossible, and the last thing she expected. "that man, he follow you everywhere I take? Si, he come into bakery not ten seconds behind you every time you visit." John had noticed the man several times when Christine visited. He would enter silently and melt into the shadows, watching over her like some hidden angel. Unable to let her leave his sights. That, John could understand. He had loved a woman once. He followed her everywhere, worried for her constantly. But, alas, the war took him away. He came home, but instead of his dearly beloved greeting him at the door, he had been met with horrid news, and the sight of her grave. All he had left of her was a cold stone angel that seemed to smirk at her death. He had left and traveled the world only to come back here and settle down in the town she was born.

So he started his bakery. If he could not be happy, he would warm the hearts of others. He welcomed all with open arms and let them spill their troubles to him over a warm slice of pumpkin bread or peach pie. Christine had been a valued customer and wonderful friend over the few months he had known her. It broke his heart to see her so scared and heartbroken. He knew the masked man's absence was the cause. He understood those feelings. It must be hard, losing someone so close. And that pompous fiancée of hers would be no help. That was certain.

He met the viscount once before. Sure he was handsome but that was probably his greatest flaw. He cared too much for appearance, he was shallow and skin deep. That was probably why he chose Christine. He must have seen her as a delicate beauty in need of a handsome prince to save her from an evil monster, the masked man no doubt.

That was why Raoul, that was his name right?...yes…, was so blind to them and the connection they shared. He could never see himself as the antagonist in a story. He was far too handsome. John could see it though. It was as if he was watching his life play out in France, a darker side to love, though still love. John could do nothing for her outside his bakery, but he would listen and comfort her, and should Raoul ask, her secrets will stay her own.

Christine knew she could trust him when he smiled so openly for her. She smiled wearily back, warming her hands around the cup of cider she had been nurturing. She calmed herself as she took a tentative sip and started her story.

She began with her fathers death, her moving into an opera house to learn ballet. Then she described the chapel, and how an angel seemed to descend from heaven and guide her through the hardest time in her life. How he taught her to sing and watched over her constantly. Never leaving her alone. Of how everything changed when her childhood friend came. She thought she was still the same person, that she could love him, but it was also when _he_, the phantom as she referred to him, had shown himself. She spoke of how she had betrayed her guardian, ripped of his mask to reveal a horrid disfigurement before the entire opera, and how she chose Raoul over him. She felt tears slide down her cheeks as she told him of the phantoms heartbroken expression as she handed him back the ring and he whispered quietly to her _Christine I love you…._

"I made a horrid mistake, and I still expect him to be with me, watch over me. It's all my fault! I sent him away! I chose Raoul! And yet, I….I…. I can't live without him" She could no longer control her tears as John comforted her. "I'll go mad! I can already feel my sanity leaving me! But, how can I love a man whom has murdered?! How am I forgiving him so easily for such things?! Would I have forgiven him had he murdered Raoul that night?!" she looked at the Baker and his sympathetic gaze. He had a harsh love as well. She dropped her head, hiding her eyes, before answering her own question, "yes, I would forgive him for anything…"

John had a warm, fatherly smile as he told her "mi amiga, a stranger and a friend can judge a man by his actions and deeds, but a lover will always see them for who they are inside. And nothing can change that, si?"

Christine wiped her eyes and smiled. "is that what love is? 'tis a horrid feeling, only feeling complete when the other is there, and feeling as if your heart was ripped out of your chest when they are not. Never knowing a moment's peace when they are away. Wanting them to need you as much as you need them, even before you realize quite how much you do?" She fumbled with her now empty mug as she said this.

John reached over and took it gently from her before replying, "yes, it is awful when you are parted, I know the feeling well. But when you are together, I mean truly together, it is the brightest joy, and most certain of certainties. No thoughts are ever needed, because your hearts can speak. You say his disfigurement holds no horror for you? Well, you will be the only one. Because that is love. Love is knowing where you belong. And that you belong there, with him. Love is seeing someone in a way no other can see them. Love is not only belonging to someone, but knowing they belong to you, heart, mind, and soul. Love is caring for another more than you can ever care for yourself. That is love. And it will never die" John looked at her as her tears dried and color came back to her cheeks. "now, I will hail cab and you go find lover, si? Leave Pompous fiancée to me. I have few tricks up sleeve. You see. Hurry and go I have feeling he want you to find him."

John rushed her out of the bakery before hailing a cab, paying the fare, and sending her on her way. He knew the mysterious man was in no danger, and he also had a feeling that the reason he disappeared would be a test, and he wanted Christine to pass. He did not know the man too well, but he was still a man. And when a man falls in love, they want love in return. From her story, John could piece together this phantom's plan, but he could only hope it would work for them. They still had that viscount to watch out for; he would most certainly be trouble. And with that, John went back inside to start baking another pie.

Christine sat in the cab, thinking of how kind and accepting John had been. If only Raoul could accept something like that. But no, she'd never explain it to him. She was too scared of what he would do. At least she knew how the phantom reacted in anger, Raoul was different. He didn't often react violently, preferring to plot his revenge instead. She remembered how he had those guards lie in wait for the phantom, and she remembered when Raoul had him at the tip of his sword. She never knew what caused what with him. And that scared her more than the phantoms quick temper any day.

It was a couple of hours before she got to the old burned down opera house, and in that time she had re-taught herself to sing just one melody. Angel of music. She stepped out and thanked the driver, whom settled himself to wait for her, he had been paid extra by that older fellah to do so and make sure she got back to the bakery safe. She glided into the opera house. The once bustling and grand theatre was tarnished and destroyed. She made her way to her dressing room, finding the large mirror and moving it aside to reveal the passageway. She remembered when he led her through it. It was lit warmly, with torches showing the way, lighting it up and allowing shadows to dance mischievously across the walls. Now though, it was cold and dark. But what did she expect? She took a breath and started to sing:

_Angel of music_

_I still need you_

_Return to me here, Guide me…_

_Angel of music _

_Please stop hiding_

_Show me you're here beside me…_

Silence.

He didn't answer… was he really not here? Christine panicked, what if he left? Was he waiting for her elsewhere? If so, where? She stepped through the mirror into the passage way and followed her memories to the stables, and eventually the gondola. She struggled in her gown to keep balance while steering. She hadn't needed to before, others did it for her. First the phantom, then Raoul… she cleared her mind and continued on, determined not to give up.

By the time she arrived in the open cavern, she was drenched in sweat and exhausted. The gate opened for her as if expecting her arrival. She looked up, hopeful. But he was nowhere to be found. As she made her way to solid ground, the candles around her sparked to life. She didn't know how, but they did, casting just enough light for her to see. But it was still cold and empty without him. The warmth he had brought was undeniable. She made her way to his organ, a beautiful instrument. Unfinished music still littered about it, as if he no longer had the will to compose. She knew that feeling, the way she could no longer find it in her to sing, how she struggled on every note without him. She looked around again and saw the small monkey. She wound it up and listened as is played a soft, familiar melody. She could still here him singing softly, heartbroken, _masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade hide your face… _that was when she returned, and given him back his ring. _Christine I love you…. _It was so hard remembering him broken like that, and still, he found the strength to stay with her and watch from a distance.

She wiped her eyes as she set the monkey back down. Next to it was the wedding veil he had made for her. The one she ripped off when Raoul had come, begging to see her. _Show some compassion/the world showed no compassion for me!_ She gently placed it back on her own head, remembering as he said to her, _this is the choice, this is the point of no return…_was it the point of no return? She had chosen Raoul that night, was it impossible to return to the way it was? Yes… they could never be the same. She was no longer ignorant and indecisive. This time, when she chooses, she chooses for good.

She walked to the mirrors she had remembered seeing. He had kept them covered then, but now they were open and destroyed. Long, spider web cracks covered them, distorting her reflection. She now looked how she felt, shattered. But then she saw it. His mask, not the black one he wore on the stage that night, but the white one he wore all the other times she saw him. The one that only covered his disfigurement, the side of his face that seemed to have been burned past recognition. She wondered what could have done that to him, but then realized he was probably born that way, and scorned for it since infancy.

She held up the mask, it seemed to have been shaped to his face, with a light adhesive to help it stay on. Too bad it wasn't strong enough to keep her from ripping it off that night. She looked in the mirror as she held it against her own face, covering the right side, and seeming to hide her further from the world. She looked at herself in the mirror and for once, she could feel him there, though fleetingly. _Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside….._

She turned and noticed yet another shattered mirror. The bits of glass littered the floor around it. She slowly drew back the curtain hiding it and gasped. The mirror was a hidden passageway, no doubt it was what he used to escape. Christine went back and grabbed a candle stick for light, before continuing down the hidden passage. As she walked, she noticed an occasional rose pedal, just lying there, but the strange thing was; when she picked it up, it was still soft and fresh. A trail? She came to a fork and stopped, wondering which way to go before noticing yet another pedal lying in the mouth of one. She followed it, and all the pedals she saw. She knew he left them as a trail, but where. Suddenly there was a dead end. A fragile ladder leaned against the wall, leading her up. She climbed until she reached the top, and opened what seemed to be a hidden door to the middle of the stage.

She stepped out onto the stage, and all the lights seemed to come on at once. She was standing spotlight, on stage, and she smiled in the warmth of the light. She had missed this, the emotion, the exuberating feeling of being on stage like this. And when she saw the rose, red and tied with a black ribbon, she knew that was what he meant to show her.

She raced her way back to the waiting cab, an idea forming in her head of where to find him. She knew now why he wasn't there, at an abandoned opera house. Sure he was a phantom, but why haunt a place already haunted by cruel memories, and ruined walls when you can hide away in the shadows of glory and spotlight? Why stay at an old, destroyed opera, when you can haunt one still bustling and new? This was not the only opera in france and Christine was determined to find the one the phantom had chosen.

When she got outside she found the driver still sitting there, waiting. Fortunate for her, she walked back and told him to take her back to the bakery. He nodded his head, but stared strangely at her before cautiously posing his question, "madam, why are you wearing that mask?"

Christine stopped before climbing into the carriage. She cautiously touched her hand to her face as she realized he was right, she was still wearing _his_ _mask_. She quickly ripped it off, and jumped into the cab, ordering the man to drive and keep this to himself. And she sat in quiet shock the entire ride back, staring at the mask and trying to decipher its many secrets.

John was waiting for Christine to return. It had been almost the entire afternoon, and he worried her fiancée would come looking. But he felt all the anxiety leave him as her carriage came into view. The driver pulled up in front of the bakery, yelling at the horse to heel and opened the door for Christine to step out.

Christine came towards him, saying on her feet, pale as a ghost, holding a thin, white mask between her hands. It was as if it were possessing her. She wouldn't stop staring into it until John reached out and gently touched her shoulder. Her entire body shivered at his touch, and she looked up at him, a question burning in her eyes…

"es his?" he asked, though he knew the answer already. He'd seen the man wear a similar mask, yet none so, refined, so perfectly crafted. He daren't touch it for fear Christine would lunge at him. She held it so gently, delicately it must be important. He could not tell how though, he had never seen a simple object have so much power over one person. He could not imagine the power the man himself held over her. This love grew darker still. A love not meant for the light, hidden deep in the shadows, and far from proper society. He feared he would never see Christine again should this continue, but he knew she would go mad if it did not. Her eyes, which had seemed so sane and gentle just hours before, sparked brightly with flames of an unknown origin. He worried for her should she find the masked man, but he worried further still should she not.

He decided to walk her home, see if he could dim the fervor in her eyes before her fiancée could take notice. The viscount may not be as sharp minded as himself, but he was no fool. Anyone could see her sanity leaking away as she stared deeply into the ghostly pale mask.

He was able to calm her enough to convince her the mask should be hidden. So she tucked it away inside her shawl, it blended in perfectly with the white gown. Now that her eyes had dimmed and she seemed capable of conversation, he took another look at her. She was filthy, covered in sweat and grime, her eyes still red from crying earlier, and the tracks of salt still marred her cheeks. Her once beautiful gown was torn and tattered, Barely holding together enough to keep her covered._ This will be fun to explain… _

He gently knocked on the door and waited as a maid came to answer it. She looked at them in horror, as if they were burglars, but Christine just smiled. She explained that on her way to the bakery, she had gotten lost and found herself walking through a rougher part of town. She had tried to find her way for hours before finally hailing a cab and making it to the bakery. After hearing her story the kind baker had decided to walk her home, to make sure she wouldn't lose her way again.

Christine's story was simple and close enough to the truth to be believable and John was surprised that the woman who had been so lost and out of it just moments before could spin such a beautiful lie. He watched in silence as the maid nodded her head and rushed Christine inside before turning around and thanking the man. _I don't know what we'd have done without you sir, truly a blessing, the master was so upset when the young lady hadn't returned…_he remembered her words as he slowly walked away, knowing that the largest part he was to play in their story had come to an end. He silently wished them good luck and prayed to the stars for that young girl's happiness as he found his way back home, the sun falling behind him.

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End of chapter two! I would've added more, and I wanted to too, but I checked the word count and it was too close to the first chapter to add anything truly impressive. So I apologize. On a brighter note, the next chapter will have more mad Raoul, insane Christine, and overall action than this one. I'm sorry I added an OC, but I really liked how he turned out and his role in the story so I'm not actually sorry at all. Oh well.


	3. Chapter 3

I actually got a review! I love you! So naturally I had to keep posting right? And to my awesome reviewer: She _doesn't_ deserve him. But if I add in some badass OC that did, what do you think would happen? I can already see the flames. So it is my job, as this fan-fiction's author, to mold Christine into a better person. Thanks for reviewing. Please keep reading, there are two people I am writing this for, myself and you. 3

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Christine made her way through the house as quietly as possible. She jumped every time she heard the heavy footsteps of a male coming her way. But it was merely servants doing their rounds. Raoul was nowhere to be seen and eventually Christine relaxed. Maybe he'd gone out to look for her? Or already gone to sleep? Perhaps he was on his way to the baker himself? It didn't matter, so long as he didn't see her like this.

He'd have a heart attack and immediately jump to conclusions…. Not that he'd be wrong. She just didn't want him to know what she was doing behind his back. Normally she would absolutely hate hiding and keeping things from him, but did she really have a choice? She knew this was just ripping them further apart, but every time she thinks back to the night Raoul saw the rose in her hand she can't bring herself to tell him.

What would she even say? "Well Raoul, there's been something I was meaning to tell you. You see, I have been sneaking out to the old opera house in order to see my kidnapper, you know the one that tried to murder you and succeeded with two others? Yeah… but don't worry if I find him, you'll never know because I most likely will never see you again." She chuckled a bit to herself at those thoughts. _That_ would never end well.

She sighed and carefully glanced around the next corner. No Raoul, her door was right there. She was Home Free! She sprinted to the door, opening it and making sure no one was watching from the hall as she closed it. Wouldn't that have been a sight?

Now all she had to do was change her dress and take a nice bath. Raoul won't know a thing. She was so happy she laughed despite herself.

"And what, may I ask, is so amusing?" Raoul was sitting on her bed. His hair was slightly disheveled and his eyes were dark and cold. Christine's face lost all amusement it had held as he got up and started walking towards her. She made to back away, but the door was blocking her escape. _Crap, why didn't I guess that he would be here?_

"Was your trip to the _baker_ so fun?" his voice dripped with a sarcasm she never expected from him.

"No, I…I err, uh, got lost..." she said pathetically. She couldn't match his eyes. She should have known, he'd never believe her now, no matter how perfect a lie she spun. Her clothes spoke the truth too harshly for her words to have any effect.

"Look at you!" he his eyes softened for a moment, taking in her horrid appearance. Her eyes were red and swollen, her shoes and stockings wet, her dress was in tatters and covered in filth. "What did you do? Play 'hide and seek' in a mine? You expect me to believe you actually went to a baker" his voice was gentler this time, as if he truly cared. But that didn't matter; she wasn't going to tell him anything.

Christine forced herself to look him in the eye, "Yes." She avoided his touch and made her way deeper into the room, it still smelled of roses. How was that? She went towards her balcony, but before she could make it Raoul blocked her path.

"You're letting him control you now" he hissed. "You're just a puppet to him. Can't you see that?! You're letting him rip us apart! He's manipulating you with… with that Damn music! Every time he sings to you it's like you're a different Christine. It's like you're no longer the Christine I love… can't you see that?" he gripped her shoulders tightly, his nail digging into her skin. But Christine could barely feel them. Instead she felt her heart harden to this man. _She had changed? Of course she had changed! Everyone had changed after he came. Even Raoul, her sweet kind Raoul, had changed. He turned into a monster, green and angry. Envy, no, jealousy clouded his mind, the phantom may try to rip them apart, but they were the ones allowing him to succeed._

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime

Save me, lead me from my solitude…"

She heard Raoul singing. That was the song that started everything. She had chosen Raoul with that song; it had been her first mistake.

"You're right Raoul" she cut him off. "I _have_ changed, we _are_ being ripped apart, and _I_ _am_ no longer the Christine you love." She stared into his eyes.

Christine's eyes were cold and unfeeling. Just like that man's. She spoke to him as if he was a child, unable to comprehend the events that unfolded around him. She sounded sarcastic, superior, as if that man was using her beautiful voice as his own. Raoul refused to let this go any farther.

"I am no longer content with false whispers of love and a perfect life. No longer content as your beautiful and talented fiancée. My chest aches knowing all that you'd have taken from me, to mold me as the perfect wife." she almost whispered to him before being cut off.

"You saw him didn't you?" it wasn't a question "he is controlling you, changing you, manipulating you" he ranted on and on, Insulting the phantom, cursing her weak will, and shouting into the shadows, challenging them.

Christine knew that was foolish, and smirked. Even if he _was_ here, Raoul would never win against him. _Never_. Her phantom was undefeatable, he could hide in the shadows and no one would notice his presence, except her. He could murder a man and no evidence that there was anyone there would even exist. He could create music so beautiful it made angels cry. Hell, he _was_ an angel. An angel so beautiful it was scarred at birth and given a mask to hide its face.

That mask she had hidden away in her gown. She brushed him off her and made her way to the mirror. She was so lost in her own thoughts she didn't notice him follow her or even bother to think of the consequences of her actions. She took out the mask and placed it on her face. Masks were supposed to hide your Identity, but not this one, no, this one had an Identity all its own. It held part of her soul, She didn't know how, but she could hear music in her head when she wore it. Just one song,

Turn your gaze away from the garish light of day,

…from the cold unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night!

How could Raoul even think to go against him? Christine started to chuckle. Softly as first, but she couldn't stop, she laughed, loudly, as if Raoul had said the funniest joke in the world. She nearly doubled over, and every time she felt she could stop, just glancing at the man, the man that thought he could compete with _him_, was enough to start her laughing again. She sounded mad, as if she had finally gone insane. And hadn't she? She chose the phantom, a murderer, thief, monster that hid in the shadows, she had chosen _that_ over a young handsome man that had promised to love her and care for her. And she had no regret, other than not having chosen sooner. Was that it? Had she simply gone crazy and her madness chosen one as insane as herself?

Her eyes flickered with insanity, her joyous laughter only interrupted when she needed to stop for air. But clouded thoughts would soon bring it back. Raoul let go of her, backing away. Her face was that of an insane woman, laughing at her inner demons. She crumpled to the floor, lying on her back, stealing glances at her fiancée as if _he_ were the joke that had been so amusing. She hugged her chest and kicked at the floor. Tears sprang from the corners of her eyes and made tracks down her cheeks. she held pain behind the madness in her eyes, and Raoul could no longer tell if she was laughing or crying with all of her heart.

He could not stand to see her this way. He ripped the mask from her face, and saw the full extent of her feelings. She looked as if a part of her had been torn off, as if he had ripped a hole in her heart. He wasn't the bad guy, He couldn't be the antagonist, this was his story, his love, his fiancée. He took a lit candle and held it to the mask, willing it to catch and burn. But before the flames could reach it, Christine had tackled him to the ground.

Raoul couldn't believe his eyes, how had his delicate, kind fiancée turned into this raving maniac? Was it the mask? She cradled it in her arms, humming a song he had never heard, softly and gently. But when she put it back on and looked up at Raoul again, all the sanity had left her eyes. She started laughing again, as if his attempt to take the mask away was even more amusing to her, than whatever it was he did earlier.

Raoul stepped around her and headed for the door. Locking it behind him, he turned to the surrounding servants. They had been watching with a growing mixture of fascination and terror. Not one servant was absent; they had all seen his fiancée's little fit of madness. "She doesn't leave this room. Understand?" as the servants obediently nodded he made his way downstairs. He would call a doctor in the morning, a specialist in this field. He hoped somehow, she could be cured. Otherwise he would lose her.

Christine saw the door slam shut, and heard Raoul order the servant to not let her out. _Shit, there goes the easiest escape route._ Still, she heard the servants murmur softly and waited until all of them had dispersed before stopping her laughter. She quickly made her way to the bath and stripped from her dress as she washed her face, shoulders, hands and feet. She then re-styled her hair so that she no longer looked as if she had, as her fiancée so kindly put, 'played 'hide and seek' in a mine'. She went to her closet and chose a modest, dark blue dress. She wouldn't seem out of place anywhere in such a dress, she slipped it on and chose a pair of comfortable, black shoes.

She tip-toed to the door and gently tried the handle. She was right, it had been locked. There was only one other way to leave her room, she snuck to the window and opened it. Revealing the tiny balcony; she went to the ledge and looked down. she was on the fifth floor, directly below her were other balconies. Instead of a straight drop to the concrete below, she could make her way down, balcony by balcony, but it would be difficult. She went to her bed and ripped apart her sheets and curtains. She braided them as tight as she could to give them strength and tied one end to the balcony.

She had no disillusions, the makeshift rope would never hold her weight, it was merely a safety precaution, something to hold onto should her footing slip. She teid the other end around her waist and climbed over the rail. She held it tight, her hands sweating in the cold night air. She almost couldn't move, but when she thought of him, she let go. She landed, none too gracefully on the next balcony. She stood up, surprised she hadn't missed, or at the very least injured herself. She went to that balcony's rail and climbed over it as well. This time she didn't feel as scared. She jumped, and landed gentler than on the other. She smirked and her confidence grew, only two more balconies left. And she jumped.

But instead of safely landing in the middle of the balcony, she gripped the railing from the outside. Her heart beat in her chest, knowing full well what would have happened if she had missed. She bit back a curse

Christine's hands were getting slippery with sweat. she knew she had to jump to the next ledge, but it was even further away from this one as the previous one had been. But she couldn't give up now, if she did, who knows what Raoul would do to her. She tested the strength of her makeshift rope, it was still holding together well, but she wasn't sure how long that would last. She took a deep breath and jumped as far out as she could, but she couldn't make it. She held back her scream knowing anything of the sort would alert her captor to her position. Had she just called Raoul her captor? Things really were being twisted.

Christine felt her body jerk, as if something had stopped her descent. She slowly opened her eyes and noticed the ground inches away from her face. She gulped, knowing how close she had been to dying, had she not thought to make her cloth rope. It was a few seconds until she felt something snap and fell the last couple inches to the ground. Her calculations were right, it hadn't held her weight for long, but it was still long enough to save her life. She picked up the end of her cloth, it was torn, being rubbed against the edges of the balcony must have weakened that area of it. Oh well, she was alive and uninjured. Even if her hands were shaking, her skin clammy with a cold sweat, and her heart beating faster than ever before. She was alive, and out of the house. She almost danced with joy and laughed out loud, but she reminded herself she wasn't out of the woods yet. First, she'd see Madame Giry and Meg. Raoul hadn't let Christine see them recently. He kept saying excuses like; "they are even more traumatized then you", "seeing them would only make you miss your old life more", and "they are busy trying to fit in with that new opera house they joined".

She never truly believed him, but she hadn't wanted to fight with him either. So she had obediently followed his words. Obediently. That pretty much summed up her whole existence didn't it? She obediently joined the opera when her father died, obediently listened to Madame Giry and her angel of music, obediently became his prima donna, obediently became Raoul's Fiancée, obediently sang in Don Juan Triumphant, and obediently chosen Raoul, like the perfect little princess, Obediently gone to live with him… but now, now she was sneaking out a window, running away in the night searching for a madman and a murderer, asking help of a known acquaintance and lying to her fiancée as if it was normal. She really wasn't the same Christine at all was she? But is that really a bad thing? Surely it was, but she found more excitement in her life, more reason for living in the past few weeks than the entire month she had lived with Raoul. Had she already been changed then?

Thinking about the past and what she could not change would get her nowhere. She shivered in the cold, cursing herself for forgetting a cloak, but knowing it was far to late to go back for one. She scanned the surrounding area, there were still lights on in the manor, but they were from the second floor, no doubt Raoul's room. She left her makeshift rope lying on the ground; she knew it didn't matter if they saw it. She couldn't untie the other half from her balcony to hide it, so why bother hiding this one? Besides, it would be better if they knew she ran away rather than was kidnapped by him. And Christine, so much like the phantom she loved, disappeared into the night.

Madame Giry was worried for Christine. She didn't know what Erick was up to, but it couldn't be good…She had received a message from him at the opera house she and Meg were working at now. It was about two weeks ago, and signed OG.

_Dear Madame Giry, _

_ I realized my mistake that night in the Opera House and have decided to change my tactics. I won't give up this time, she will choose if she hasn't already. Even if you do run to the Viscount to warn him of my scheme it will do little good now, you see Christine is still mine. She will come to you, desperate and panicking, asking if you have seen me at your opera house. I care not how you answer her for I know that once you see her it will be the truth. She will tell you, no doubt of how she escaped Raoul, and her nightmares, of times she felt alone and empty. If she does, allow her into the opera once again. She will find me eventually, and when she does, you can tell that handsome viscount, he will never see her again. _

_ OC_

What could it mean? What has he done to her? Or is he expecting something that will never happen? No, he's far too confident. What was most worrisome though was the Opera the director chose. "Don Juan Triumphant" He said he was there, watching it that night, and thought it a work of pure genius. They are to start rehearsals next week, yet he hadn't chosen the female lead. The director said he was holding out for a prima donna from another opera house, but he couldn't have meant Christine. She gave up opera for Raoul and if he did, the phantom was manipulating him as well. Had the old opera been burned down, only to be replaced with another? But, everything ran smoothly, only Madame Giry had received any notes at all. What was Erik planning? And what will happen if Christine falls into his trap?

Giry had tried to warn Christine, but Raoul refused to let her see neither Meg, nor herself. Especially with the phantom involved. Had that to been a part of his plan? He said it would do no good. And he was right.

But Meg had the heart of a naïve young girl, when Giry read the letter aloud, rather than rushing off to warn Christine, or fear for her dear friend she looked almost hopeful.

She had said "what's wrong with that? If she comes looking for him having, and I quote 'escaped from Raoul', that means she really loves him to, doesn't it?"

What if she did love him? But even so, could a girl as fragile and innocent as Christine really fall in love with such a man? And in saying that, how could she ever feel happy with a life in such dark shadows? Then again, she could never imagine Christine happy in a life without music either…

Raoul was pacing his room, was it really the mask that had sparked her madness. She had shown no signs of finding the man the cursed thing belonged to. Should he have tried harder to take it from her? No, she would be more likely to hurt herself, if not others. Why did it come to this? First that madman shows up and burns down the entire Opera, then Christine goes insane, would he go insane as well? Did that monster have this effect on everyone? Was such madness an infectious disease, one that spreads from person to person?

He would need to ask the doctor in the morning. He asked a maid to look up the residence of one; he is supposedly a professional in the field of mental illness as she said. Mental illness, that meant it could be cured right? She would no longer believe she loved that monster and she would come running back to him. The man she truly loved. Then the story would end, happy ever after.

No, that man would still be out there. Raoul knew that much. As long as he was free he would never let Christine go. And Raoul intended to keep her locked away until she was cured and no longer wanted to find that monster. That way everyone will be happy, and the marriage can continue as planned. So long as that 'phantom' was locked away, or dead, whichever. Though he preferred dead. He could still remember the feeling of being strangled by that rope, of knowing his fate rested with Christine. Of the uncertainty of her choice, would she choose the phantom to save him, or have him killed for her own freedom? Now that he thought about it, had she chosen the phantom simply for his life? Or had she chosen the phantom then as decisively as she was choosing now?

Had she expected him to carry her off and leave Raul there, tied to the gate? Was she dreaming of stealing away into the night in the hands of her angel? Would he truly have married her that night? Was that what she had wanted? Was she so depressed these past few months knowing that was taken away from her? Was that why she had seemed so distant? Arrrrgggghhhhhh! Why was he thinking like this? Of course she didn't want that! She had even gone back to give him that ring! … she had gone back… did she go back truly for the sole purpose of giving him that ring? Or did she go back hoping he would change his mind and steal her away? NONSENSE! Of course not. Raoul struggled against his own thoughts. Did she truly love _him_? Or was it all a ruse? had she ever chosen _him_ at all? Or did she only love that monster?

His thoughts betrayed him, constantly pointing towards her never having loved him at all. He knew it wasn't true, but his envy, no, jealousy was speaking to him. He felt like a young girl picking the pedals off a flower, _does she love me? Does she not? Does she love me? Does she not?she loves him. No! she loves me, she aid she loves me! She said? Well her actions seem to speak louder than her words… She is lost in madness that is all! That is all? Would she lose herself in a fit of madness over you? Would she disappear for an entire day looking for you despite not even knowing if you were even still alive? Would she notice your absence so obviously if you were to walk away? She has to love me, she promised, she wears my ring even now…_

Raoul was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even hear the sound of someone slamming into the side of his balcony. Little did he know his beloved fiancée would not be there in the morning for treatment.

Christine was walking along the road, thinking to herself. She didn't know where Madame Giry lived; she had no idea what opera she would even be working at. Raoul never told her anything of the sort. She wondered why, but realized he most likely wanted to leave the past behind. Keep her away from horrid memories of a figure in the night, watching her every move, controlling her, and threatening all that stood in his way.

But what he was really keeping her from was joyous memories. When she first met meg and Madame Giry, her first time doing ballet for an actual opera, her first time meeting her angel, her first time singing, all the memories she treasured. But Raoul wouldn't understand, that was part of the reason she couldn't stay with him.

She had been walking for hours before she could catch a cab. She asked the driver if he knew any operas that were currently open, but he looked at her like she was crazy and started rattling off tons of them. Ones just opened, ones playing shows, ones soon to play shows, but when he mentioned one that had recently finished a show and was starting a new one, she had an idea.

"are they still hosting auditions?" she asked him

"Well, he replied, " from what I hear they recently got a couple of newer ballerinas in from the opera that burned down last month, but they still can't find someone to play their lead role. Apparently their usual quit after hearin' about what happened to a young prima donna at the ol' opera, and the rumors flyin' that the man responsible lived. And the director's choice of performances didn't help. Apparently half their current staff is from that ol' burned down opera house too." He certainly knew a lot about this, but Christine supposed it was his job to know such things.

"Can you tell me what the opera is about?" she asked in a hopeful voice, expecting some kind of subtle sign that it was where _he_ was.

"course I can s'called somethin' like 'Don Juan triumphant' I think, I hear it's the same as the last show the ol' opera had. Pretty cool huh? I wish I could go to one of those sometime, I hear they're pretty nice, but honestly, I'd never save up that kinda money. Don't know exactly what It's about though,… sorry" he looked back at her. "you really wanna go there now miss? It's pretty late you know." He asked her in a less certain tone.

She looked up at him with determination in her eyes; "yes" the driver looked forward again and took up his reigns, driving the carriage towards their destination. Christine looked down again, at the mask she brought along. Raoul had tried to burn it, but Christine got it back before he could even leave a mark on the perfect white surface. It was still ghostly, mysterious, and so powerful. It held so much of his personality she wondered why she had ever wanted to take it off. Curse her curiosity, had she not… not… what did it matter now? His face held no horror for her anymore. And she was on her way to him. Fighting for every step closer, but she was still on her way.

Soon she would give this mask back to its owner, and perhaps he'll forgive her, if not, there couldn't be a worse punishment than the one she had now, so what had she to fear? So long as she got him back, so long as she could hear him sing again, see him sit there and compose that music, those songs. As long as she got her music back, she will be happy. Was this selfish? Was she doing this only for her own sake? Yes, yes it is selfish, she's leaving her fiancée behind, letting him think her mad, possibly leaving him in scandal, and searching out a man that had quite obviously disappeared from her life. Perhaps he was content without her, what if he had found another to replace her?

Christine felt her heart sting at the thought. How dare another woman… wait, she was jumping to conclusions again. But what if it was true? Christine thought of her phantom and how his warmth could fill a room, how comfortable it was in his arms, how intoxicating his voice was, and how alluring his music. Any woman could fall prey, but he said he loved Christine. So he couldn't have found another, right? But then, Christine had promised her loved and future to Raoul and ran off with another man. Was her love now one sided? Was this how the phantom felt when Raoul first appeared?

Christine looked back at the mask in her hands. She remembered the night on the balcony when he came for her, she remembered the trail of pedals, the rose in the middle of the stage, surely these were signs he still loved her. How could she have doubted that? When she found him again, she would be happy, and for now, that was all she needed as she settled back in her seat and started humming softly to herself.

* * *

Wow! Talk about an all-nighter. This was brought to you by the combination of a giant plate of cold Bagel Bites, a warm heater, and my lack of anything better to do. Without further ado, my thank you for reading this crappy ass chapter. I know you did, otherwise you wouldn't have read this far. 3


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